


I tried to remember the chorus

by Liapotter



Category: Pacific Rim (2013), The Social Network (2010)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Pacific Rim!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-26 16:34:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5011885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liapotter/pseuds/Liapotter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What were you doing when it happened? Or Eduardo's k-day story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I tried to remember the chorus

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [phantom/culture](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1075823) by [antistar_e (kaikamahine)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaikamahine/pseuds/antistar_e). 



> So this is actually a translation of my earlier fic, which was originally written in Chinese. I'm really nervous about posting this one - English is my second language, so please let me know if you find my choice of words incomprehensible.
> 
> And I've said it before, this fic is inspired by antistar_e, thanks to her wonderful wonderful work.
> 
> A small point on "bistromathics" - it's from the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, here's a link to the Hitchhiker's wikia: http://hitchhikers.wikia.com/wiki/Bistromatics.

What were you doing when it happened?

—

It would be inaccurate to say that Eduardo’s k-day began at 10 p.m. There is a whole ocean between Singapore and San Francisco — nobody understood it better than Eduardo — it was the reason why he moved to Singapore in the first place, which was also why, when the first Kaiju, or Trespasser, landed on San Francisco, one Pacific ocean away, Singapore knew nothing about it. A short clip from YouTube was broadcasted for the first time on the 4 a.m. News the next morning, featuring “a scary monster from the deepest, darkest corner of the sea, destroying San Francisco, knocking down a skyscraper.” And it wasn’t until 7 a.m., when Eduardo got up, turned on the tv, had he learnt about it. Every channel, all the news — they were all talking about one thing, featuring similar footages. Two more clips were added to the 7 a.m. News, one showing a Golden Gate Bridge cut in half, cars sliding into the sea; the other an aerial shooting of San Francisco bay, where the sea glowing a strange fluorescent blue, docks and boats destroyed, fire and smoke everywhere. Sirens, screams, and explosions, all intertwined in the background of the broadcaster’s trembling words. Eduardo just stood there, toothbrush sticking in his mouth, a single trail of toothpaste sliding all the way down his dress shirt, and onto his bare foot. He wriggled his toes numbly. He genuinely thought it was the end of the world.

And it was, in a sense.

Every now and then, Eduardo finds himself thinking about 10 p.m. the night before, 7 a.m. on the west coast of the U.S., when he’s zoning out, when the sound of Mark smashing computer keys, or complaining, or sometimes saying things extremely sweet and out of character, disappears, when Mark’s out of his sight.  
He remembers reading in the living room, but has no idea what he was reading. He remembers using the bathroom, catching a glimpse of the clock on the wall on the way back, it was 9:22 p.m. He remembers going to bed, checking his cell phone for the last time, 12:04 a.m. The three hours in between were all a blur.

—

April 2024.

Of course there’s only one reason for Dustin to visit Eduardo in his New York office.

It doesn’t mean that nowadays their friendship is only about money — Mark, if there’s ever somebody who knows me and Dustin better than ourselves, it would be you. So you would know this isn’t true. This is not only about money. Eduardo silently objects to Mark’s comments. He has learnt over the years not to say these things aloud in front of Dustin.  
They have all just been busy. Especially Dustin.  
Mark shrugs, one corner of his mouth slightly upturned. Okay then say hi to Dustin for me. By the way, has anybody told him that his T-shirt really doesn’t fit him? It looks like 3 sizes smaller comparing to his belly. Eduardo struggles not to laugh. Dustin has gained a lot of weight, Eduardo doesn’t even know how he managed it. The world is going through one of the toughest food shortages, yet Dustin is getting bigger and bigger like a balloon. 

Of course Dustin comes for the money. As one of the first and most significant individual sponsors to PPDC, Eduardo knows that the government is cutting down their budget. One Jaeger after another was destroyed, dumped at the Oblivion Bay. And the pilots died one by one. Eduardo still keeps in touch with some of the retired pilots. Sometimes they would mention to him their dead colleagues, their voice calm, or pained, or shattered, and always, always with a hint of longing that terrifies him. Eduardo can’t say he understands.  
PPDC official is talking about closing down the bases. Lima. Vladivostok. And then Los Angeles. At least Dustin wouldn’t feel too bad about closing the last one. “Yeah.” Dustin admits with a forced smile. After graduating from Jaeger Academy, Dustin refused to go to Los Angeles, and even left PPDC for a while. (Of course Dustin quit his job and attended Jaeger Academy.) As to how and why did he eventually come back and get involved in the business of raising money for PPDC, Eduardo doesn’t know. The past few years have been a rough period for both of them.  
“And now they are back to the big plan: the ‘Wall’. . . ”   
Mark smirks. The part of Eduardo’s brain that is not paying attention to Dustin’s words believes that there is a Facebook related joke somewhere. But he doesn’t know where. Mark makes some strange sound, not quite laughter. Sometimes Mark does this. Eduardo turns around and stares at him. Mark shrugs. Dustin gives Eduardo a weird look, but says nothing.

They agree on a number, which is slightly higher than the number Eduardo could actually manage at the time. Eduardo promises that he would talk to his shareholders. “But you have to understand, Dustin.” Eduardo hesitates, and uses “Government” instead of the name they both know but both are unwilling to address. “You know Government is pressing hard on this whole ‘Wall’ thing, using every possible means. I can’t promise you anything. Just last week, I was talking to some of the shareholders, and quite a lot of them are losing faith in the Jaeger program. It’s just a matter of time before they tip to the ‘Wall.’” Eduardo says. His personal account was emptied out a long time ago.  
Dustin says he understands.

“You know.” Dustin says, like it just comes up to him. But Eduardo knows the moment Dustin says it that he’s been thinking about it the whole time. “Chris.” Dustin’s voice sounds weird. And it’s been a long time since Eduardo last heard this name. It’s almost strange. In fact, they talk about him a lot, they just never mentions his name anymore. “He and Sean are going to have a charity auction, to help pay medical expenses for Jaeger pilots who got cancer because of the radiation. They sent me an invitation.”   
“Oh.” Eduardo blinks. He did not get an invitation.  
Of course you don’t get invited. Mark says drily. Eduardo doesn’t know if he’s trying to be sympathetic. If he is, then he’s doing a really crappy job.   
But before they lost their common ground and went their separate ways, Chris was Dustin’s best friend. Chris has been trying to pry Dustin away from them. No, don’t be petty, Eduardo tells himself. Chris has been trying to reconcile with Dustin.  
Maybe he thought Eduardo is beyond repair. Don’t be silly, Mark says patronizingly, he’s just afraid of me. You don’t have anything valuable to sell anyway, nor can you afford anything. Eduardo objects to this with a hum. Mark’s voice softened. Okay, okay, if you really want to spill your money, you know you can find a Cancer Foundation or some sort of Charity for Jaegers in a blink of an eye.

You know it’s not about the money.  
No, everything here is about money.

Eduardo can’t help it and makes a frustrated sound.  
“Man, do you, I don’t know.” Dustin frowns. He chooses his words carefully. “Um, I mean, do you think you should find a new shrink?”   
“Don’t. Dustin.” Eduardo grinds his teeth. Mark bursts into raging laughter that only Eduardo can hear.

—  

Eduardo never drifted with Mark. Of course. But he often thinks, mistakenly, that this is a side effect of drifting. It sounds like something out of the PPDC Official Manual for Jaegers. They have an official name for this, but Eduardo can’t recall it.  
Ghost-Drifting. Mark looks up from his lap top and reminds him.  
“Ghost-Drifting.” Eduardo says.  
His new shrink, an Asian female named Audrey, raises her eyebrows, quickly flipping through his medical records, but doesn’t say anything. She makes a gesture, telling him to go on. Eduardo clears his throat.

People often think that Eduardo has a tendency to over-share. People means Mark, Dustin, and we-will-never-speak-his-name-again Chris. By contrast, Mark is on the other extreme of the spectrum — overly self-reclusive, shut in, and he seldom, if not never, shares any feelings with people, let alone other things. It is true, but also untrue at the same time. Mark is the one who never stops talking and is always dumping opinions upon people, no matter how unpopular those opinions might be. Only that he’s not sharing, he’s trying to come on top of any people, anything, everything. It’s fucking brainwashing.  
But it really comes in handy when it comes to these awkward and tedious therapy scenes. And sometimes people forget that Mark majored in psychology in Harvard, although he never put too much effort into it. It was so typically Mark. He thought coding would be a big help to his study, but ended up wired in this side project only to forget about his initial plans.  
Eduardo smiles, leaning back into the couch, and lets Mark talk instead. Judging from Audrey’s expressions, Eduardo knows that she wouldn’t be sitting on this chair in front of him for too long.

Problem is, Eduardo doesn’t think he and Mark would be drift compatible. He has been thinking about it a lot over the years. Mark agrees with him. This is probably the last bit of “compatibility” left between them. The rest of it, if there ever was any in the first place, although Eduardo suspects there wouldn’t be too much of it, had burned up in 2004. Whoa. 20 years has passed before you know it. They are both speechless for a while.  
20 years.  
Eduardo doesn’t feel the anger or bitterness anymore when he thinks about all the things happened between him and Mark. Facebook, the break-up, and the lawsuit. Now he feels warm, almost happy. War does strange things to people.   
At the meantime, Facebook has become more important than ever. It seems that not until this point, did it really truly connect the whole world, no matter it is Pacific rim or other places on earth, for example, Great Britain, you know. Mark is proud.

You did never understand this.  
Eduardo stopped pretending a long time ago. He did never understand, and maybe he still doesn’t understand, and he never will. But he doesn’t care anymore.  
Because none of it matters anymore.

I would be chasing the rabbit all the time, and you would have a strong modesty reflex.  
Right.

. . . Oh, and besides Facebook, Twitter, tumblr, Google+, ask.fm, and even bartender — they are all playing an important role.  
Mark frowns, but his smile betrays him. What is “bartender?” The website wasn’t up until 2018, no wonder Mark doesn’t know.  
Ah, I don’t actually know, Eduardo admits, but you see, if people go to a bar alone, they would always end up talking to the bartender, revealing their deepest secrets and stuff. It’s their inspiration and motivation in designing the website. Or at least they say so on the official page.  
This is bullshit. Mark smirks.  
Yeah, whatever, people love it anyway.  
You might as well tell me that bistromathics makes hyperdrive spaceship possible.  
Oh, it really doesn’t. Eduardo says. You know these days, all the technologies developed are meant to go down and deep into the sea, not to go up.

—

Eduardo wakes up, and finds out two things. One is that he’s really hungry, and the other is that he’s still dreaming, because he’s standing in front of a closed elevator. The number blinking on top of the doors tells him the elevator is going down. 23. 22. 21. He’s on the 16th floor.  
Marilyn Delpy is standing beside him. He didn’t know her name at first. He thought her name was Mary (close enough), or Marley. The last time he saw her was in 2008, she was sitting at the other end of a long table, amongst a bunch of people whom he didn’t want to, or didn’t dare to look at too closely.   
But he knows her name now. He’s had this dream too many times.

“I’m starving, and sleep deprived, Mark, seriously, I need a raise.” She pats his shoulder jokingly.  
Eduardo looks at his reflection on the elevator doors. He sees Mark’s face.  
“Okay.” Eduardo says gently.   
Marilyn grimaces. She’s about to say something when the floor shakes. And then it shakes again.  
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, earthquake?” Marilyn says, although she’s not too nervous about it. San Francisco is in the Circus-Pacific seismic zone. They are pretty used to earthquakes by this point. 

At first, Eduardo had very different reactions.  
But now he just shrugs. 

The elevator arrives with a pinging sound.  
Eduardo catches Marilyn by the elbow. “Let’s go down the stairs. We shouldn’t ride the elevator during earthquakes.”  
Marilyn nods. They go down the stairs. Then Eduardo wakes up, for real this time. He’s lying on the bed in his first floor apartment in New York, looking up into the darkness that is his ceiling. He notices Mark isn’t around. He smooths his hair (something he does when he’s nervous or upset), goes into the kitchen, and pours himself a glass of water. He sits on the couch in the living room, puts down the water, and never drinks it. It’s just like that night. At an imaginary 10 o’clock. He starts to think about 10 p.m. that night again.   
Eduardo feels cold all over. He sits in the dark, stranded on a lonely island, soon to be devoured by the darkness. It’s just like that night in Singapore. He was sitting on the floor, listening to the sound of Dustin crying on the other end of the phone. He heard hysteric screams. About the Trespasser. And Mark. And an elevator in a skyscraper.

No no no no no.  
No. No. Nononono.  
NO. JUST NO.

His breath hitches. He staggers to the bathroom, stomach churning dangerously. He forces the door open, smashing it onto the wall. Mark startles and jumps up from the toilet, where he’s been sitting and coding. Eduardo crashes onto the floor, and throws up.   
Mark makes a pitying sound behind him.  
Eduardo laughs weakly. He doesn’t need Mark to stroke away his sweaty hair on the forehead, or saying soothing words while he kisses his ear. It’s enough that Mark makes pitying sounds behind him.

It makes no difference that they go down the stairs. Eduardo knows. He just hates falling.

— 

In the end, Eduardo does go to Chris-whose-name-we’ve-almost-forgotten’s charity auction. Along with Mark. Although none of them is invited. Mark laughs. Eduardo thinks it’s funny too.  
Chris looks shockingly old. Of course only Mark looks like he’s in mid-twenties. Sometimes Eduardo suspects Mark is actually 19. The rest of them inevitably grow old, Chris especially. He doesn’t look like 40, but much older, almost 50. He begins to develop a bald spot on the top of his head. He becomes very thin. And his blonde hair is half white.  
Eduardo sees him on tv every now and then. Chris would look younger if he smiles. At least the wrinkles on his face would not be so obvious.  
But unfortunately, Chris is fighting with Dustin when Eduardo and Mark arrive. It’s very different from what Eduardo remembers from their college years. Dustin’s face doesn’t turn red; no flailing arms or spit flying every direction. And Chris doesn’t look like he’s about to kill somebody. They are calm, and mostly civil, their voice cold as ice. The increasing volume of their voices is the only indication that they are indeed fighting.

Eduardo hears bits and pieces of words.  
“. . . ridiculous thing? I don’t know if you . . . but . . . Jaegers.”  
“Dustin . . . The economic is decreasing, and . . . money . . . understand.”  
“ . . . hypocrite . . . “  
“Dustin!”

Mark shakes his head, his mouth a thin line. Eduardo sighs.  
And then Eduardo sees Sean coming towards them. Not Chris-now-he-looks-like-he’s-about-to-kill-somebody-I-hope-it’s-not-Dustin’s Sean. The other Sean. Sean Parker. Eduardo hasn’t seen him in a while. He often hears about him though. Now he’s working with Tendo Choi. A small part of the money he’s spending, albeit a very very small part, still comes from Eduardo. Eduardo frowns, a little annoyed. Mark asks him somewhat worriedly: Do you want to greet him? Or should I?

Eduardo thinks for a second. Okay I’ll go.  
Mark bites his lips.  
Just don’t leave me alone.  
Mark says okay.

Sean approaches them. He hugs Eduardo real hard. Eduardo didn’t expect him to be a hugger, but of course he never really gave much thought about Sean Parker, except he really hated him.  
Eduardo pats Sean on the back. Sean laughs, and steps back.

“Hey, Eduardo, my man.” He says cheerfully, and waves to a direction randomly. “Hi, Mark. If he’s here.” The second part aims at Eduardo.  
“He’s here.” Eduardo replies easily.

The end.


End file.
